They’re early, of course, because of the unseasonably warm weather. Still, it feels right that it’s the first day of March and the daffodils have begun to bloom. They are some of my favorites.
Each spring I am delighted by the sight of their happy, yellow faces. I am in love with those little cups and saucers, filled with pools of nectar, waiting openly for the bees.
As a child I confused their name with acrobats (no doubt it was the three syllables, the “o” in the middle), and felt constant frustration with my mother for not seeing what I was pointing out. “Look! Acrobats!” I would cry. No one could see what I saw.
This morning I see their ruffled edges tossing and turning in the breeze. I see the way they have opened their bowls of sweetness, early perhaps, but not a moment too soon. I see the way every year they arrive, accomplished, blossoming into light.
And when you see anything, it leads you to see more and more. Like the way each spring the earth rediscovers laughter, and fills my garden with its colorful giggling. Like the way the daffodils rise, without ambition or fear or doubt. Like the way they simply continue to grow, from the deepest parts of their being, because it is their purpose to do so. I see they are alive, but also, I see their life, sprung from seeds of happiness, shimmering softly, like gold.
It is not officially spring, but I could believe it is. I could believe this new month is also a new season, and a new beginning. I could believe the morning light slipping in front of the stars represents more than the rotation of the earth. I could look into these happy, yellow faces and believe in something like a soul. I could. Most mornings, I do.
If I had another life, I would want to spend it like the daffodils. I would want my face to open each morning in a wild, eager way. I would want to be a cup filled with sweetness. I would want to wait patiently for others to drink me in. I would want to offer what I could – patience, happiness, light. I would want to be an example of joy.
I would want some child to confuse me with acrobats. I would be that exciting, that deserving of attention and praise. I would be bright like the sun. I would shimmer like gold. I would look like laughter. I wouldn’t worry or fear or hurry too soon into the changing seasons. I would just continue to grow from the seeds of my happiness because it is my purpose to do so. I would just blossom into light.
Most mornings, I do.
Because I don’t have another life. I have this one. And it is foolish to spend it wondering how long it will last, and then what, or what other lives may have been. It is foolish to look at these happy, yellow faces and see anything but a reflection of myself. I will rise and bloom again and again, until eventually, finally, I become the earth. Until then, why not shine?
It is a new month. It feels like a new season. I look at the daffodils and want to believe that their arrival means more than the unexpected warmth. I want to believe that they have opened their faces to a new beginning for us all.
And this morning, I do.